


‘tis the damn season

by Ilikelarryfics



Category: 'tis the damn season - Taylor Swift (Song), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilikelarryfics/pseuds/Ilikelarryfics
Summary: “Okay, babe,” Louis replied in a whisper. “I can call you ‘babe’, right? That’s okay?”Harry smiled in just the corners of his mouth, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Just for the weekend, Lou.”-Harry Styles, a renowned model, is back in his hometown for the holidays, only to be confronted by the broken pieces of his past, namely Louis Tomlinson. Is it really so wrong to sample the road not taken, even with the knowledge that there is no way back?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Kudos: 10





	‘tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! After listening to Taylor Swift’s ‘tis the damn season, I have felt super inspired to write a fic that follows her storyline.   
> Before you read- I just want to give ALL my gratitude to Talia, for being the best editor and friend during the writing process. LOVE YOU!  
> Anyways, enjoy :)

**December 23**

Heathrow Airport during December consisted of an abundance of tireless holiday travelers who all looked excessively business-professional for visiting one’s parents. Christmas carols played faintly over speakers but were drowned out by the incessant announcements for Flight B9 (apparently some stragglers needed the reminder to board their 6:00 pm flight) and the shouts of hurried passengers. 

Through the aura of high volumes, however, one could still hear a young woman shout with excitement at the base of the escalator. 

“Harry!” she cried, sprinting towards the tall man who had just stepped off of the moving steps. Harry smiled sheepishly, and embraced her warmly.

“Hi, Gems,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “Gemma. Not even  _ Mum _ calls me Gems anymore, love.”

Harry shook his head softly, gentle curls falling out of place. “Guess I’ve been away for a bit too long, huh?”

“Damn right you have!” Gemma scolded, messing his hair, although she had to stand on her tip-toes to reach the top of his head. “Bub, did you grow while you were away?”

“Two inches,” Harry replied, sticking his tongue out at his sister. 

A blonde boy who had been standing beside Harry abruptly spoke up in a flat tone of voice with a strong Irish dialect. “Styles. Mate. This is sweet, but are you going to introduce me or must I do it myself?”

Gemma furrowed her brow. “Harry? Who is-”

“Niall Horan!” the man said excitedly, pumping her hand. “I’m Harry’s boy and I’m joining you for Christmas!”

“Surprise!” Harry exclaimed sing-songingly. 

“I’m looking forward to meeting your extended family and seeing your hometown!” Niall babbled. “Doncaster. Sounds like paradise! Really, I’m ecstatic, Gems!”

Gemma giggled and patted his back. “We’re thrilled to have you, Niall.”

“Very,” Harry affirmed. 

“But… I need to know… are you two  _ together _ ?” Gemma asked, her head cocked slightly.

“He wishes!” Niall wiggled his eyebrows at Harry playfully.

Harry blushed and roughly embraced his blonde friend with just one arm. “You got me, Nialler.”

The trio jubilantly made their way to the baggage claim, partaking in nonsensical chatter - mostly provided by Niall - and walking briskly to keep up with the Irish one’s stride. 

Gemma whispered into Harry’s ear. “This boy is absolutely crazy.”

“He’s darling,” Harry said in return.

Niall, two steps ahead of them both, continued to jabber, unaware of their broken attentions. “So, yeah, eventually I broke things off with him because neither of us ever wanted to top so it just didn’t work well.” The man paused for a moment, in thought. “Also, he was vegetarian. We were not a good match.” 

Harry, who hadn’t been listening to the Irishman’s conversation with himself, interjected. “I’m vegetarian.” 

“Since when?” Gemma said, shocked, like Harry had just admitted to committing a malicious crime.

“Must have been for about two years or so.”

“Mum should never have let you go to that goddamned city. These Angelenos have made you one of them!” 

“Okie-dokie, I won’t tell her about your obsession with yoga and Soul Cycle then,” Niall goofed. 

Gemma smiled to herself. “At least I know that far. We’re friends on the Strava app! I see your little entries in the stationary bike category.”

“Little entries?” Harry said indignantly. “I have been  _ grinding _ ! If anything, my entries are big!”

The three of them laughed as they arrived at the luggage claim, patiently watching the conveyor belt circle. Niall’s endless stream of words was eventually cut short when Gemma asked, “Is that one yours?”, pointing to a powder blue trunk furnished with shiny silver clasps.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed with a small smile and collected his luggage, as well as grabbing the furry magenta trunk beside his own. “Niall,” he addressed, handing the blonde man the pink trunk. 

“Thanks, mate!” Niall said before, once again, losing himself in a tangent regarding bacon (?) and sex (??).

Harry listened intently, nodding when he felt it was necessary. Gemma just clung to Harry’s arm and hummed contently as they walked. Eventually, the group reached the exit door of the airport and stepped outside into the freezing rain. 

The wind whipped against them as they hurried to the car, tiny raindrops pelting at their faces. 

“Where are you parked?” Harry shouted and Gemma waved them to her Honda in response.

“That rain was biting at me,” Harry shuddered as he climbed into the backseat. 

Niall, who had somehow called shotgun, whipped his head around. “You don’t see weather like this in LA! Fucking mad!” Although he was shivering, his tone was still joviant. 

Gemma smiled warmly from the driver’s seat. “You boys. Who would have thought that California would make you so soft?”

Niall laughed and, without permission, began to fiddle with the car’s radio presets. “Justin Beiber!” he cried, settling on a station. “Yes!” 

The entire three hour drive went on to be filled with Niall’s surprisingly skilled tenor belting out pop songs and then supplementing the music with extensive music trivia.

“Did you know that Ed Sheeran wrote this song after visiting a homeless shelter and meeting a drug-addict?” Niall asked, way too cheerily for the subject matter. 

“Oh, yeah, he was talking to me about that,” Harry said, almost uninterested, staring out the car window and the raindrops splattering on the glass. 

“You’re mates with Ed Sheeran?” Gemma gasped, gaping at Harry in the rear view. 

Before Harry could speak, Niall cut in. “They’re proper mates, yeah. We were all at some Christmas party last year - wasted, so fucking wasted - and just Harry and I went back to Ed’s around four in the morning to sober up and then get drunk again when we woke up.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes. “So  _ that _ was the important business that you missed Christmas in Donny for?” 

“Well,” Harry said wryly in defense, “I did have a shoot the next day. I was just  _ intoxicated _ while I was there.”

“He threw up on me!” the blonde boy chirped.

“Shut up, Ni!”

“It’s true!” Niall combatted, “He threw up on the makeup artist too!”

To the Irishman’s surprise, one of Harry’s brown leather loafers smacked the back of his head.

“What was that for, mate?” Niall laughed, rubbing the location where the shoe hit. “That  _ hurt. _ ”

“Sorry,” said Harry, insincerely but not roughly. “Stop incriminating me.”

Niall laughed and elbowed Gemma. “This chap is a riot!”

Gemma grinned. “Are we talking about the same Haz? He is pretty much a grandpa.”

Niall whipped his head around to face Harry. “Haz? That is a child’s nickname!”

Harry’s face flushed. “My mum used to call me that when I was a kid and it stuck, I guess,” He explained sheepishly. 

Pressing a hand to his heart, Niall’s face softened fondly. “Well, isn’t that adorable.”

“Properly,” Harry replied simply, his eyes fixated on the world that fleeted through the view of the window. 

And so the journey continued - interrupted with bathroom breaks initiated by Niall’s pleas - and it wasn’t until after 170 miles of driving and probably a million embarrassing stories from the blonde one’s childhood that the trio reached Doncaster. 

As they drove into the outskirts of town, Harry began pointing out every shop, every park, every abandoned building.

“I lost my virginity there!” He exclaimed upon passing a movie theater. His sister froze, looking at him quizzically with a hint of disappointment. “In the bathroom,” He added in response to Gemma’s concerned look, as if it was a reasonable explanation. 

Harry sighed, at peace in his hometown after so many years of distance.

After about ten more minutes of Niall’s rambling, the speed limit dropped for a school zone, and Gemma slowed her driving pace as the car passed an old brick building.

“Lou, Li, Zayn, and I had the time of our fucking lives in that school,” Harry whispered nostalgically, his breath catching slightly.

Gemma looked up in the rearview mirror so that her eyes met Harry’s. “If college here was so good, why were you so anxious to leave?” 

Even though the question was clearly rhetorical, Harry was compelled to reply in his own defense. But, before he was able to, Gemma turned on her blinker and pulled into her parking spot beside the Methodist Church. 

“Are we here?” Niall asked excitedly, unbuckling with vigor.

Gemma patted his back amicably and laughed. “Yes, Niall, we’re here.” 

Niall observed the neighborhood. Small homes with character and one old church lined the block leading towards the high school. “Your house is really close to the schools. Rent must be expensive, huh?”

Gemma chuckled at the boy’s down-to-earth nature. “Come, Ni, mum will be excited to meet you.” 

The two got out of the car, collecting Niall’s luggage from the trunk, and hurried through the cold rain into the Styles’ house. 

Harry, however, sat for a moment in the backseat, pressing fingers to his forehead in contemplation. “Fuck. Whatever,” He muttered to himself before abruptly shaking his head and exiting the car. 

Harry strode into his childhood home, awkwardly carrying his large trunk and adjusting his clothing. As he nudged the door with his hip and dragged his luggage behind him, a cheer erupted from the crowded kitchen.

“Harry, dear!”

A brunette woman with intense features but kind eyes hurried out from behind the kitchen counter, an apron tied around her waist. She wrapped her son into a tight, warm hug, stroking his back and whispering into his ear. 

“I missed you,” she said softly, patting him one last time before releasing her tight grip on him.

“I missed you too, Mum,” a teary-eyed Harry responded. “It feels so good to be back here.”

“Can I help you to a drink, Haz? Or something to eat?” the woman asked attentively.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Harry asked, pecking his mother on the cheek. “Have you met Niall, Mum?” 

“Have I met Niall?” Harry’s mother asked sarcastically. “My, he has been complimenting my appetizers since he stepped in the door.”

Niall, who evidently had been listening to their conversation somehow, grinned and pressed a kiss  _ onto the woman’s lips.  _ “It’s true. Anne and I have been acquainted for almost ten minutes now. Time flies.” 

“Well, it seems like you’ve made quite the impression, Horan,” Harry smirked and shoved his friend’s shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it and say my hellos to some other friends.”

Harry smiled warmly at Anne one last time before departing from their small circle of conversation at the door and mingling around the other guests in the kitchen and living room.

Harry grinned upon each familiar face and greeted them enthusiastically. “Hi Wali,” he wrapped a young girl up into a hug, bending down drastically to match her height. 

“Hey, Haz,” she replied, kissing his cheek.

“Have you seen Zayn and Liam?” he asked gently.

“They’re getting high in the living room,” Wali replied. 

Harry’s face split into a grin. “Thanks, Waliyha.”

The girl giggled. “Don’t call me that!”

Harry just laughed in return and made his way to the living room, collecting a drink (something of eggnog and vodka?) on the way. 

He stepped through the doorway and his eyes fell upon two men on the couch, smoking joints with their legs all intertwined. Harry stood and stared at them, shaking his head with a grin spreading across his face.

The one with floppy chestnut hair met Harry’s eyes and the man jumped up off the couch in excitement. “Harry’s here, Zayn!” he said, voice brimming with joy.

Zayn broke out into a smile and rushed over to Harry, followed by his partner. They embraced Harry affectionately, patting his back, rubbing his hair, muttering variations of greetings. 

“Hi Zayn, Hi Liam.” Harry pulled away from them in the interest of getting a look at both of their faces. “How long have you had purple bits in your hair, Z?” 

Zayn laughed. “Only a couple weeks.”

Liam ruffled Zayn’s hair. “He is constantly changing it around.” 

“Suits you well,” Harry remarked shortly. “Is Louis here, boys?”

“We haven’t come close to catching up with you yet,” Liam replied sadly, “But, yes, I think he is in your old bedroom.”

Harry chuckled, but faded quickly into a more stony expression. “I haven’t spoken to him since… you know. Year 13. I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to start.”

Liam sighed. “You know you’re shit, right? What you did was absolute shit and I would beat you up if your face wasn’t so damn pretty.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m aware. Fucks sake. Does he hate me?”

“See for yourself, babe,” Zayn said somewhat cooly.

“Fair enough.” Harry nodded goodbye to the boys and shuffled down the hallway to where his old bedroom was.

He stood outside the closed doors and, after taking a deep, deep breath, knocked. 

“Can I come in?” Harry asked.

“Sure.”

Harry’s breath caught at the sound of the voice on the other side of the door. He opened it. 

Louis sat at his desk, fiddling with Harry’s old fashion magazines and rotating the spinny chair. He looked up at the tall boy quizzically with his icy blue eyes. 

“What brings you here?” Louis asked, as if he wasn’t the one in Harry’s bedroom without invitation. 

“I need to talk to you,” Harry sighed. 

“Is that so?” 

“I need to apologize.” 

Louis shook his head sharply. “Harry, I’m over it. We were both fucking children. Okay?”

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking considerably under his weight. “You’ve reached… closure?”

“I did a lo-o-ong time ago, Styles,” Louis replied, flipping the page of the October 2012 edition of  _ Vogue _ . “This magazine is shit, by the way.” 

“No, Louis. Really. How hard has it been?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harry. Your presence was never the key-component to my happiness. In college, however, your sex was an added bonus. That’s all.” 

Harry’s face flushed red. “You can’t-” he began, shaking his head angrily. 

“Can’t what?” Louis snapped, cooly. 

The tall boy’s breath shook and he speechlessly left the room, slamming the door as hard as he could to leave just a bit of shock in his wake. He pushed through the crowded kitchen and living room, scowling, ignoring Zayn and Liam’s concern and Niall’s amusement. 

“Where are you headed, love?” Anne asked, furrowing her brow.

“Just a walk, need some air,” Harry replied shortly, without stopping to make eye contact.

He stepped through the front door into the snow, continuously shaking his head.

“What the fuck did I expect?” Harry whispered to himself. “What the  _ fuck  _ did I goddamn expect?” He raised his voice, picking up a rock from the street and throwing it as far as he could into the dark of the night. 

“Anger issues much?” a voice called from the steps of Anne’s house.

Harry whipped his head around, only to be faced with Louis, smiling smugly.

“So dramatic, Styles. There aren’t secret cameras, you know. You can suppress your anger like a normal person,” Louis took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled, wisps of silvery smoke and water vapor intertwining at the rim of his lips and swirling into the freezing night air. 

“Fuck off, Louis,” Harry bit his lip, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. “Why-” his voice faltered. “Why are you doing this?”

“You sound like a child now, Harry. I thought you were supposed to be a grown man. Is that not what you told me in 2012?”

Harry tapped his foot, refusing to make eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. You wrote me a fucking note. You told me that you had ‘out-grown this town.’ Is that so? Are you too big to be here, Styles? Because, in that case, you should leave.” Louis inhaled from his cigarette once again before laughing sharply. “If you have nothing left to say, Harry, I’m going to go back inside.”

Harry gulped the night air. “Do you remember when… you proposed to me?” he asked softly.

Louis turned on his heel, scowling like Harry’s words tasted sour.

“S’pose I do.”

“And then what you said… about staying here. About living the rest of our lives here. Scared me to death, honestly. I know it’s not an excuse, but you have to know what was going through my mind to understand why I left. Can we just… I don't know, call it even, maybe?” 

There was a sullen pause, Louis rocking back and forth on his feet, absorbing Harry’s words before cracking into a grin. 

“God, and you get defensive when I call you dramatic! Are you reading off a script, Styles?”

Harry laughed deeply. “Hey, I was trying to make things right for  _ our  _ benefit!” 

Louis smiled at his toes. “Will you walk with me?”

Harry nodded shyly, watching as Louis put out his cigarette in the snow and walked down the front steps slowly.

“Tell me,” Louis said, clutching his arms around Harry’s.

“Tell you what?”

Louis’ face contorted, almost with exasperation, as if he expected Harry to understand what he was getting at. “Harry, tell me what is important to you. Recap the last two years. Hell, recap the last twenty. I feel like I don’t know you. Make me feel like I do.” 

“That was one hell of a monologue,” Harry chuckled, “Who’s reading off of a script now, huh?”

Louis leaned further into Harry. “Fuck you.”

“I’ve been modeling.”

Louis smiled, locking eyes with Harry. “At least I know that far, I’ve seen your bloody Vogue cover.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry sighed. “Vogue.”

Louis dropped his voice dangerously low in response to Harry’s empty tone. “You don’t really like it there, do you? The shallow materialistic plastic people? You don’t  _ like _ them, do you?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I  _ chose _ this life, Louis.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Louis replied darkly. 

Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip. “They are my  _ friends _ , love. They show me a good time. We have things in common. I don’t know what else to ask for!”

Louis’ voice was almost a whisper now, but the level of intensity in his tone stayed consistent. “ _ Friends _ , Harry? Zayn and Li are your friends! Your mates in L.A. would write actual books about you! They wouldn’t sense your discontent, I just know it. They wouldn’t know if your smile was fake, or real, or whatever. They don’t know you the way I know you, Haz! They don’t-”

Harry cut him off with his lips, gentle but insistent. Louis’s lips came alive in response, standing on his tip-toes to reach the taller boy, slotting their mouths together. If either of them had even noticed that snow had begun to fall, they didn’t show it, giving their full attention to one another. As small flakes dusted their hats and scarves, the boys exchanged tongues amply, whispering between themselves with passion.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Louis sighed into Harry’s mouth, beginning to palm the other boy through his pants. 

Harry pulled away for a spell. “Wait, are things… different now?” he asked nervously.

Louis, without removing his hand from the crotch of Harry’s pants, laughed, and pressed more kisses onto Harry’s lips, firmer this time. “Oh, Harry, it’s like riding a bike.”

Breathlessly as their lips pulled apart, Harry giggled. “Your comment wasn’t nearly as lustful as you thought it would be, Tomlinson.”

“Well then why did you get hard when I said it,  _ Styles _ ?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Harry replied submissively, leaning into Louis’ mouth again.

They smiled against each other lasciviously, each boy craving the other.

“I assume this means I get to fuck you tonight,” Louis said breathlessly.

“At your place?” Harry asked, lips brushing Louis’s as he spoke.

Louis laughed sinfully. “I was thinking in your bed at your mom’s house. For old times sake.”

“Let’s go there now,” Harry insisted in reply, pulling the other boy in closer by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Okay, babe,” Louis replied in a whisper. “I can call you ‘babe’, right? That’s okay?”

Harry smiled in just the corners of his mouth, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Just for the weekend, Lou.”

“That’s okay with me.”

“Then it’s okay with me.”

“Babe.”

  
  
  
  
  


**December 24**

“Are you awake, birthday boy?” Harry asked the boy lying next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“What time is it? And how the fuck do you know it’s my birthday?” Louis groaned in response, rolling over to stuff his groggy eyes away from the light.

“It’s nine, Lou. And we dated for six fucking years, of course I know when your birthday is.”

All of a sudden, there was a rapping noise on the bedroom door, startling the boys.

“Come get your lazy arse over here for breakfast, Haz!” Niall called, walking into the room without permission. 

“I’m naked you pervert!” Harry shouted, pulling the covers up over Louis and himself.

Niall’s eyes flickered excitedly. “You two slept together?”

Louis poked his head out of the duvet to smile devilishly. “Yes.”

“ _ Anne! _ ” the blonde boy called, sprinting out of the room, on a mission, leaving the other two boys to be consumed in giggles.

“Thank you, Niall,” Louis shouted after him, sarcastically. 

“Do you want to eat here?” Harry asked, cuddling the smaller boy closer.

“If it’s not a bother.”

Harry sighed deeply. “Lou, no need to pretend that our families have boundaries with each other. This is your home too, if you want it to be. You know that.” 

Louis laughed, nuzzling his nose into Harry’s chest. “I’m glad you said that, babe, because I think your mom made bacon. I can smell it.”

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked.

Louis nodded childishly, still wrapped in Harry’s arms.

“Then let’s go eat.”

The pair shimmied into sweatpants from Harry’s trunk, the waistband of Louis’ hanging loosely off of his hips, and plodded into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday, Lou!” Anne cried, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. 

“You all have good memories around here, huh?” Louis grinned, swaying back and forth contently.

“Harry, I assume you gave him a nice  _ present _ ,” Niall said slyly, winking. 

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” Harry retorted playfully. He then turned to Louis. “I did get you an actual present, though.” 

“You didn’t have to, babe,” Louis responded softly, standing on his toes to kiss Harry gently.

Anne smiled. “You boys are adorable.”

Louis grinned at her. “Obviously.”

“I do wonder though,” she began, passing Louis a plate with egg on toast and bacon, “Is it smart? For you two to be doing this?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, biting down on a piece of toast.

“Stop eating off of my plate!” Louis whined.

“Spending the weekend in this way.” Anne pressed a hand to her forehead, furrowing her brows. “Harry doesn’t live in this  _ country _ anymore and, Louis, we all know how hard it was for you when he left the first time.”

Harry looked hurt and Louis turned red.

“Anne, that was different,” Louis spoke up, calmly. “We were kids, we were fucking  _ engaged _ . It was hard because it was the first time and it was hard because  _ no one _ saw it coming. We’re adults now, we can fuck around when he’s in town without tearing our hearts out.”

“I see,” Anne said, serving yet more bacon to Niall, who was listening to their conversation intently. 

“I think the issue is,” Harry said through a mouthful of toast, “ that neither of us knows how to be in the same place without being  _ together _ .” 

“And that’s sweet,” Anne began, “But it’s going to be difficult and confusing if you keep pretending that all is the same when it isn’t.”

“You don’t understand,” Harry sighed, “All  _ is  _ the same.”

Niall grinned. “You two are so cute.”

Anne chuckled. “Eat your eggs, Horan.”

“Harry, do you want to go for a drive?” Louis asked, standing up abruptly.

He smiled. “Sure. Thanks for breakfast, Mum, really.”

“I love you boys,” she said as she waved them out the door.

Harry grabbed a scarf from the coat hook by the door,wrapping it around Louis’s neck securely, and pulled the smaller boy close to himself as they stepped out into the cold air.

“What made you want to go for a drive?” Harry asked as he shut the door behind himself.

“Drives are my favorite thing,” Louis said simply as he grabbed Harry’s hand and led him to the truck in the driveway.

“You own a truck?” Harry examined, flabbergasted. “That’s not a  _ you _ thing to do in any way.”

“I didn’t think so either,” Louis explained, “But… fuck, I’m embarrassed.”

“What is it, love?” Harry inquired, even more curious now.

“Well, we had, like,  _ fucked _ all over my old car. There was literally a stain of your cum on every single seat.”

“That’s how you ended up with a truck?”

“I just wanted to trade that car in for  _ anything _ else. Honestly. We had our first kiss together in that car. And, after you had just left town, I was trying to get rid of things that would trigger my memories of you.”

Harry frowned, eyebrows tightly knit. “Fuck, I feel horrible,” he said after a pause, voice faltering.

“I don’t want you to feel bad, Harry… you were hurting.” Louis then sat on the front steps. “You  _ had  _ to.”

“It was selfish,” Harry insisted, swiping at his teary eyes.

“Taking care of yourself is never selfish. If this town felt desolate to you, it wouldn’t be right for you to stay here…” Louis paused before choking out, “for me.”

“How are you so understanding?” Harry asked emotionally.

Louis laughed, choking on tears slightly in the process. “It’s all Zayn, love, really. He’s a Psychology major, you know.”

Harry giggled through a mess of tears on his face. “How about that drive?”

Louis nodded and wiped his face, before leading Harry into the passenger seat of the truck. 

“What a gentleman,” Harry chuckled when Louis opened the car door for him. 

“Oh, please,” he replied.

And so they drove - recalling memories of their youth, belting out songs from the radio, absorbing each other’s silence, breathing the air between them. 

“Louis?” Harry asked after a few minutes of quiet.

“Yes, babe?” he replied, reaching to hold Harry’s hand as he flicked his left blinker on.

Harry swallowed hard before speaking, his eyes fixated on the road ahead. “If things had gone a certain way, if we  _ worked _ , what would it be like?”

“It?” Louis asked for clarification, cocking his head.

“Life?” Harry offered.

There was a pregnant pause. “We would be in uni together, huh?” Louis said softly. “And probably married because we tended to do things prematurely. You know Zayn and Liam’s American neighbor?”

Harry nodded.

“We would own her flat. I would probably hang up fairy lights and you would paint the kitchen cabinets some shitty shade of green. But I would be happy if you liked it. Maybe we would own a piano just for the hell of it, and make a lot of noise. Make a lot of music.”

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand tightly, humming in tranquility.

“That sounds lovely, Lou.”

Louis scowled. “‘S a bit of a shame, actually, that we can’t have that.”

“It is, huh?”

They continued to drive without speaking until Louis ended up in Harry’s driveway once again.

“Thank you.” Harry spoke to Louis gently, giving him a kiss, before exiting the car and walking towards the house.

Once the boys left the car, they could clearly hear the sound of Paul McCartney’s  _ Wonderful Christmastime _ blasting from inside the house. Harry lost himself in a fit of laughter at the intense volume of the song - and the choice of song.

“This is Niall’s doing,” Harry explained joviantly. “He fucking loves Paul McCartney. And loud music.”

“Who doesn’t, Harry?” Louis laughed, sprinting up the front steps. “Let’s party with Niall Horan!” 

The boys rushed through the front door to find Niall, Anne, Liam, and Zayn dancing around the kitchen baking gingerbread cookies.

“The whole neighborhood can hear the music!” Harry shouted over the sound.

“Good!” Niall yelled in reply, blue eyes flickering under the brim of a ‘Kiss the Cook’ chef’s hat. 

Harry pecked the Irishman’s cheek enthusiastically and reached for the spatula. “Can I help?”

“We’d love that!” Zayn replied, handing him the bowl.

“I don’t know how to cook!” Louis complained loudly.

“This is baking, Lou!” Liam joked, poking the small one’s cheek affectionately. 

“Whatever, Payno,” Louis giggled, lolling his head onto Liam’s shoulder, who ruffled his hair.

Anne excused herself, leaving the five boys to it. They were struggling to take the task seriously. In the hopes of recreating a scene that resembled a romantic comedy, Harry started tossing flour around, much to Liam’s distaste (“We’re going to have to clean that, idiot”).

Niall made fast friends with Liam by sharing drunken anecdotes, and with Zayn by touching his hair incessantly and gushing about the purple streaks. 

“Should I do that to my hair?” he asked, stroking his own blonde locks.

“Pink,” Zayn decided, grinning, “is more your color.”

“Yes! Pink!” Niall gasped, punching his fists in the air. “You are a genius!” The boy rushed over to Harry and began tugging on his shirt. “Harry, mate, is there an Asda nearby?”

Harry shared a knowing glance with Louis, suppressing a wide smile. “What is it, love?”

“I want to dye my hair pink!” Niall exclaimed.

Louis clapped his hands together excitedly, without a second thought. “That’s a worthy cause, let’s take the truck!”

In just five minutes, all of the boys were eagerly piling into the truck. Liam, the self-proclaimed “best driver”, was in the driver’s seat so, of course Zayn was in the passenger seat. Even though Harry was the biggest, he was forced into the middle backseat between Niall and Louis. 

They drove pleasantly with Niall’s playlist called “sadness”, which mainly consisted of intense metal music and cheery Christmas tunes, playing in the background.

“If I named it ‘heavy metal and Christmas music’ that would be a dead giveaway.” he explained as they walked into the store. 

“Fuck,” Liam said, observing the line that snaked from the checkout to the deli. “I’m not waiting in this line.”

“Don’t worry, I know what we can do,” Louis replied assuringly, leading the boys to the cosmetic section. “Is this an okay brand, Z?” he asked, holding up a box of pink hair dye. 

Zayn studied the packaging. “I normally would opt for something less -” 

“I think it’s fine,” Louis interrupted. “Harry, put this in your man purse.” 

“Adding the word ‘man’ insinuates that -” 

Louis stamped his foot impatiently. “ _ Harry _ , put the dye in your damn purse and leave the store casually.”

Harry looked taken aback. “You want me to steal?” he whispered.

Louis smiled. “Yes, take the fucking dye and follow my lead.”

The boys shuffled out of the door without raising suspicion (except for, maybe, Harry, who blushed profusely and kept whispering guilty complaints to Louis). 

When they finally were back in Louis’ car, Harry sighed deeply and turned around in his seat. “Niall, you must know how much I love you considering what I just did.”

“Oh, shut up, Harry, it’s just a bit of petty crime,” Louis giggled, backing the car out of the lot. “How did I end up driving? I’m the worst driver here.”

Liam snorted as buckled his seat belt. “You’re right about that, mate. Remember that time we got in an accident in college?”

“I’m sorry,” Louis laughed. “To be fair, we were also really lost.”

Zayn shook his head in amusement. “That was your fault, too!”

“Oh, fuck you!” Louis guffawed, glancing at the other boys in the rear view. The rest of the ride went on in this fashion, the other boys teasing Louis lightly, only to be met by high levels of sass and sarcasm. 

When the boys arrived back at the house, Anne had already served a roast for Louis’ birthday dinner, marking everyone’s seats with small cards.

“Would you look at that, I get to sit beside the birthday boy!” Harry exclaimed with excitement.

“Naturally,” Anne smiled.

“Ni, we’ll have to do your hair after we eat,” Zayn said warmly, tucking into his meal.

“What are you all getting yourselves into now?” Anne asked in bewilderment. 

“They’re dying my hair pink!” Niall shouted, shoveling a hunk of potato into his mouth. 

“That’s beautiful, actually,” a woman’s voice called from the front doorway.

“Gemma!” Anne cried, rushing to greet her daughter. “You can sit next to Niall.”

“Hi, Gems!” Niall shouted with food in his mouth, clapping his hands together. 

“Hey, Niall,” she replied with a smile, taking her seat at the table. “Oh, and Louis, happy birthday. Twenty-one is a big one. You can legally drink in the States.” 

“Oh, yes, because I go to America all the time,” Louis remarked sarcastically between bites of carrot. 

“You could always visit me, you know,” Harry supplemented, eyes fixated on his plate.

“That’s an option, yes,” Louis replied softly.

Gemma observed their interaction over her forkful of beef. “Alright. I’m just going to say it,” she sighed. “If you two want to be long-term, then commit. Don’t listen to what anyone fucking tells you; if you think long-distance will work, then make it work,” she advised, pointing at them with her utensil.

“But it _won’t_ _work_ ,” Harry began quietly. “Our lives are completely different. _This_ , these fucking holidays, are the only time we seem to overlap. So, this can work. What we’re doing now. But not anything more serious. Not after the way things have changed.” 

Niall, always doing his best to diffuse a heavy silence, began to tell a story regarding one of his previous romantic pursuits. Everyone listened halfheartedly, nodding to show their interest since they wouldn’t be able to get a word in even if they had anything to say. 

After the meal, the boys cleared their plates and retreated to the living room, where Niall continued to go off on his tangents. This time he rambled on about his childhood, which escalated into an explanation for why he disowned his immediate family (it was because of their political ideologies, he explained angrily). All throughout the conversation, Zayn applied the goopy pink dye to Niall’s hair.

“I was disappointed, yeah, that they voted for someone who they  _ knew  _ was working against me and my people,” he ranted, exhaling smoke from a drag of Louis’ newly-lit cigarette. 

“I understand,” Louis said before a deep inhale, the cig back in his possession.

“Yeah, I would be properly pissed if I felt like my parents weren’t supportive of my rights, let alone my lifestyle,” Liam agreed, his arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “I’m sorry that you have to go through that.”

“It’s alright, mate, don’t apologize,” Niall grinned. “I don’t need a biological family if I have all of you.”

Zayn laughed deeply. “You met us yesterday, lad!” 

“And?” Niall asked. “I feel a connection!” 

After several rounds of drinks and an inebriated rendition of “Happy Birthday to You,” the group wished each other well for the night and, one by one, headed back to their own houses. 

“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” Louis asked casually after seeing Gemma out.

“I’d be happy to, yeah,” Harry replied timidly. “Can we just walk?”

Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and began to lead him down the street. “I happen to live very close,” he grinned.

“Well, wouldn’t it be nice if I still lived here, then?” Harry asked, smiling lopsidedly.

“S’pose so, Harold,” Louis said, twirling Harry under his arm like a pair of ballroom dancers for god knows what reason. 

Back in Louis’s apartment, Harry insisted on watching  _ Love Actually  _ even though Louis just wanted to go to bed.

“See that?” Harry asked, addressing the relationship between  Jamie and Aurélia. “That is perfection. Romance at it’s finest.” 

“Aren’t  _ we _ romance at it’s finest?” Louis teased, wrapping Harry’s body into his own more tightly.

Harry hummed sadly. “We would have been, Lou.” 

They both fell asleep before the movie ended.

  
  


**December 25**

“Harry, wake up,” a groggy voice grumbled.

“Shush, Louis,” Harry begged, rolling over. “Five more minutes?”

“No, really, babe,” Louis insisted, with more energy in his voice this time. “It’s past noon.”

“But it’s so warm. And it’s Christmas,” Harry said, smiling as he pressed his face into Louis’ bare belly. “Just stay here a while. Hmm?” 

“Okay, love. Five more minutes.”

They ended up lying there for an hour more, sighing with content from time to time in order to remind the other of their consciousness when they drifted out of sleep. 

“Louis?” Harry eventually spoke softly, rolling over.

“Yes, love?”

“Can I make you pancakes for breakfast?” he asked gently, one hand on the other boy’s jaw, angling Louis’ head so he could kiss him.

“I actually have chocolate chips in the cupboard,” Louis grinned, “so, please, there is no need to use those in moderation.”

“Louis, I would never,” Harry murmured. 

Louis leaned up to kiss Harry again. “Good. You know, you can’t trust people who don’t like chocolate chips in their pancakes.”

“That’s common knowledge,” Harry said, climbing out from underneath the blankets, the dip in the bed where he had lain slowly rising in his absence. “I’m going to get to that, alright Lou?”

“I’ll meet you in a moment, babe,” Louis said, stretching his arms. “I need to give myself a moment to wake up.”

Harry smiled and left the bedroom sheepishly, trekking to Louis’s small kitchen and began searching for ingredients in the cupboards.

After about ten minutes, Louis plodded into the kitchen in slippers and a robe, yawning. 

“I’ll make us tea,” he announced, shuffling to the stove.

“I would love that,” Harry replied, leaning into Louis’ mouth.

“Harry,” Louis groaned, “you can’t kiss me right now. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Harry giggled. “But I don’t mind your morning breath, Lou.”

“Maybe I mind yours,” Louis teased, poking Harry’s belly.

Harry pouted. “I really hope you’re joking because if you aren’t, I am putting no chocolate in your breakfast.”

“In that case, I’m just joking.” Louis beamed, sticking his tongue out at Harry.

They shared their breakfast pleasantly, mocking each other gently and refilling their mugs of tea. 

“Wild to think that, just two years ago, we were at my mum’s house together right about now,” Harry said as they ate.

“Why is that wild?” Louis asked over a sip of tea. “We’re heading over there at four.” 

“Because we’re still  _ us _ . Even though we won’t be tomorrow, somehow, we’re together this Christmas,” Harry explained. “I always thought that, if we weren't endgame, we were nothing. But this doesn’t feel like nothing, Louis.”

“It’s not,” Louis said quietly. “And, no, it’s not forever or anything close to that, considering you’ll be on the first plane out of Heathrow tomorrow. But this, right now... this isn’t nothing.”

They finished eating in sentimental silence and cleared their plates with words of fondness.

“Can we head to my mum’s in an hour?” Harry asked, looking up from the dish he was washing.

“Is it really already three?” Louis asked in shock.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, checking the microwave clock atop the counter.

“What are you planning to wear?” Louis questioned, leaning against the countertop.

“A Gucci suit,” Harry said plainly as he scrubbed a bit of syrup off of his plate.

“Fuck’s sake, Harry! What do I wear when my partner is in a Gucci fucking suit?” 

“Your partner?” Harry said, expression softening, as if Louis had just said the most romantic thing in the world.

“Oh, fuck off, Styles.” Louis’s grin contrasted with the slight blush on his cheeks. “What should I wear?”

“Do you have a black high-neck?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Yes.”

“And a black blazer and trousers?”

“Yes.”

Harry beamed. “Okay, you’re going to look extremely hot. Is that okay with you?”

Louis shook his head. “You flatter me.” 

“I would hope so,” Harry responded, smiling. 

The boys began to get ready to leave. The plan was to show up one at a time, but Harry got clingy. They laid out their clothes as their hair dried, Harry’s in a towel wrap.

“Am I going to look fucking ridiculous?” Louis asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to dress you?” Harry asked, offended.

Louis smirked. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

The taller boy shook his head. “Well, you will  _ obviously  _ not look ridiculous. There’s your answer.”

Louis laughed. “I’m not so sure… this outfit seems a little bit goth for a Christmas dinner.”

“Not goth. Think  _ noir _ . And sophisticated,” Harry corrected, smiling. “You’re going to look fucking incredible, I promise.”

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it,” Louis replied, pulling the turtleneck over his head.

They dressed together, commenting on each other’s outfits. Louis joked just once about Harry’s floral suit before promising that it was, in fact, the greatest suit he had ever seen. Once Louis was dressed, Harry insisted on combing his hair into a quiff. He had the man sit on the floor by his feet as Harry styled his hair.. 

“You look incredible,” Harry observed. “Really.” 

“As do you,” Louis replied, pinching his smile small. “Hey, I actually got you a gift. Do you want to open that now?”

Harry’s eyes softened even further. “Yeah, of course. I also got you a little something.”

Louis clapped his hands together in delight. “Okay, I’ll go get it.”

“Me too.”

Both boys hurried to retrieve their packages for one another and returned to the table quickly.

“Open it!” Louis commanded jubilantly, handing over his gift..

Harry did, grinning. Inside the wrapping paper lay a small, bejeweled broach in the shape of an anchor.

“I’m not going to go off on a tangent about what it symbolizes,” Louis began, “but just know it means something. Okay?”

Somehow, his small speech and his gift had sent Harry into hysterics. “It’s beautiful,” he weeped, pinning it onto his suit.

“Can I open mine?” Louis asked impatiently.

“Of course, love,” Harry responded, wiping his eyes.

Louis tore away the wrapping paper hurriedly, revealing a book titled ‘The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged.’ “Thank you! I’ve been meaning to get around to reading more, this is perfect!” 

“I’m glad you like it, Lou,” Harry gushed.

The pair embraced momentarily, but were cut short by an alarm on Harry’s phone.

“It’s 3:45, we should be leaving for my mum’s,” Harry remarked. 

Louis nodded in acknowledgement. “Do you want me to drive?”

“That works,” Harry said in response, wrapping his arms around Louis. “I don’t mind if we crash.” 

“Hey, I’m not  _ that  _ bad of a driver!” Louis retorted defensively.

“You’ve totalled three different cars!” Harry said in rebuttal. 

Louis sank in defeat. “Fine, you’re right. That is solid proof that I’m a shit driver.”

Harry smiled affectionately and grabbed the keys to the truck off of the small dish that Louis kept by the door. “How about you take the passenger seat?”

They conversed jubilantly as Harry drove, chattering nostalgically about Christmases of their childhood until they pulled into the driveway. 

“The boys!” Anne called in celebration as they walked through the front door. “Merry Christmas to you both!”

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” Harry said, kissing her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Anne,” the smaller boy said, kissing her too.

“What did you two do all morning?” Anne asked, taking coats from each of them.

“We slept really late,” Louis said. “For old time’s sake.” 

“That sounds nice,” Anne said conversationally. “Do either of you want something to drink?”

“No thanks, Mum.” Harry smiled warmly. “We’re going to say hi to the Maliks and Paynes, okay?”

Louis and Harry made their way into the living room to greet Tricia, Yaser, Karen, and Geoff, who had all been pleasantly chatting upon their arrival.

“Harry! Louis!” Karen exclaimed as they walked in, rushing over to embrace them both.

“Merry Christmas, boys!” Tricia said, grinning. “Always attached at the hip.” she remarked in addition. 

“I haven’t seen you in years, Harry!” Yaser chortled. “I missed you!”

“Hi,” Harry said, hugging each parent of his friends individually. “How have you all been?”

The group resumed their lively conversation, filling Harry and Louis in on the on-goings of their lives.

After about twenty minutes, Anne called them for their dinner. The bunch gathered merrily around the table and roped Gemma, Anne, and Niall into their discussion on whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza.

Although Gemma and Niall took firm stances against what they believed was an “atrocity to mankind,” Anne apparently didn’t “care what other people are eating, although I personally wouldn’t want it.” The conversation grew heated quickly but the argument stayed joviant.

By six, they passed around glasses of champagne and drank to each other’s health and good fortune. 

“I love you all so much!” Niall exclaimed from his spot at the table. “This is the best place to be for Christmas, Harry.”

Gemma nodded in her brother's direction. “And to think he’s passed up the opportunity for the past two years!” 

“No matter whether Harry is here or not, Anne, you can expect  _ me  _ for Christmas,” Niall announced. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Niall,” Anne said, beaming.

Zayn, looked up from his meal, bored. “Can we watch  _ How The Grinch Stole Christmas _ ?”

“The animated one?” Harry asked.

“Obviously, Haz,” Liam replied. 

The group of parents stayed at the dining table to continue drinking while their sons continued drinking in front of the television. It was interesting how, even though they were all adults now, they could still shift out the way of their parents, the same way they did growing up. 

The music of the Grinch movie began with trilling woodwinds, entrancing Zayn and Liam who sat on the floor directly in front of the television, passing a bottle of champagne back and forth as they discussed the incredible work that went into the film.

Louis and Harry cuddled on the couch farther back in the room, Harry falling asleep in Louis’s lap, his lanky limbs somehow condensing to fit on top of the smaller boy’s thighs. 

Niall rotated between the couples, taking a swig of champagne and commenting on animation techniques before retreating back to cuddling on the sofa.

Once the Grinch movie ended, Zayn insisted that they watch  _ Santa Claus is Coming to Town _ and then  _ Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer _ . 

Once Sam the Snowman’s hand signed off, even though it was only shy of ten o’clock, Harry was practically asleep.

“It seems like he needs his beauty sleep,” Louis explained, “so we’re going to settle down for the night.” 

Everyone wished them a wonderful Christmas on their way out the door, as Louis guided a drowsy Harry to the car. They drove in silence except for the low sound of tires whirring and the car’s heater blasting warm air. 

The two of them walked into Louis’ flat and stripped down to boxers in his bedroom, climbing into bed with exhaustion. 

“Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Louis.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

Both of them wanted to tell the other that they loved them, but both knew that it would only make it harder whenHarry to leave in the morning. So, they bit their tongues and fell asleep in the warmth of each other, hoping that their hearts beating against one another would express the truth in itself.

  
  
  
  


**December 26**

The guitar introduction of  _ Mr. Brightside _ by The Killers blasted through the dark room, awakening both Harry and Louis. 

“Why is  _ Mr. Brightside _ your alarm song?” Louis asked without opening his eyes.

Harry yawned. “It’s upbeat enough to get me up and moving. Do you mind if I turn your light on?”

“No, go ahead, I should be getting up with you anyway.” 

Harry flicked the light switch, casting a bright glow through the room surrounded by natural darkness. “It is four in the fucking morning,” Harry observed, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Are you packed for the plane?” Louis inquired, stretching his arms up by his ears.

“Yeah, I’ve got it all together.” 

Louis climbed out of bed gingerly, complaining about his bare feet on the cold floor.

Harry wrapped the boy into his arms, holding Louis against his own body. Pressing his face into Louis’ hair, he inhaled the scent of his shampoo.

“Fuck, I’m going to miss you,” Harry whimpered into the top of Louis’ head.

“I’m going to miss you so bad, Harry,” Louis sniffled in reply. 

They stood like that for a while, slotting perfectly together, sharing warmth and tears and unspoken feelings.

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” Louis asked softly.

“Gemma is driving me,” Harry explained through sobs. “I want you to bring me, I want more time with you. I just… I don’t want to make a scene in the terminal. You know?”

Louis choked back a cry. “Yeah, yeah, I get that. Look at us. We would definitely be the couple making a scene.” 

Harry wiped away his own tears and then Louis’s. “So,” he inhaled a shaky deep breath, “really, I should be going.”

Louis nodded, handing Harry his trunk. “Yeah, of course.”

Harry stared at the apartment, taking it in. “I- I guess I’ll see you next Christmas,” he stammered, mournfully.

Louis nodded slowly, processing. “‘Bye, Harry.”

“‘Bye, Louis.”

-

The apartment had suddenly grown dreadfully quiet in Harry’s absence and, in obligatory defeat, Louis slumped into his seat at the kitchen table. The Robert Frost book sat untouched across the table, inviting Louis to open it. 

He thumbed through the first few pages, quickly growing bored of the metaphors and symbolism and emotion, considering he was attempting to escape his abundance thereof. Louis placed the book back on the table, unimpressed, and was about to ask Zayn and Liam if they were awake, when the book fell open onto a page that had already been read over - or so Louis assumed, based on the crease in the spine and the highlighter that emphasized the lines on the page. 

Louis scanned the title of the poem,  _ The Road Not Taken _ , and hummed in recognition of the work - he had read it in grade school.t. 

With a great level of focus, he read the full page, and then read it over and over and over again. The highlighted verses, Louis realized, were Harry’s words to him. 

So often the story goes this way: the one who did the hurting so long ago had something more to say, but it was the last thing Louis was expecting. He ran his hand over the words.

#  _ The Road Not Taken _

  * [Robert Frost](https://poets.org/poet/robert-frost)



Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope that you enjoyed! I’m so excited that I was able to share this. :) Once again, THANK YOU TALIA!!


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